A Reverent Memory
by The Raven's Writing Desk
Summary: Neither the Sandman nor Pitch Black were prepared for this.


Emily was scared. So scared. The fear split through her like ice, and the pain accompanying it made her frightened trembling worse. There'd been a man that'd come to school today. He didn't belong there, of course, because it was an Elementary school and he was no child. He had dressed entirely in black, ski-mask and all, through reflecting, Emily didn't quite understand why he had the mask. There was no snow on the ground to ski in anyway, and it wasn't quite cold enough to warrant such heavy clothing.

_She didn't know how long it'd been since the man had crashed through the door to her third grade classroom, yelling all manner of nasty things at Mrs. Kate. Emily didn't know why he'd say such horrible things to her teacher, Mrs. Kate was such a sweet lady. She was the child's favorite teacher; always smiling, speaking with gentle words_.

The woman, in her light cream dress and beautifully kept chocolate hair, and her soft, kind eyes was laying just a few paces from where Emily was. Mrs. Kate was very pale, eyes milky and unfocused, staring unseeing at the ceiling. She wasn't breathing. Brilliant scarlet stood out against the mellow fabric of her dress, right at her middle.

_After the man had finished his yelling, he'd pointed something at the woman. There'd been a terrible burst of noise following, a bright flash of light coming from the muzzle of the semi-automatic weapon in his hands. The man, satisfied with the 'thump' the teacher had made when she fell to the floor, turned the gun on the students. It hadn't taken long. _

Emily became aware of something glowing lightly, something golden just out of the corner of her eye. Its warmth penetrated the coldness she felt. The child wished she could turn her head to see it clearer. There it was again! A swirl of gold coming from the other side this time, dancing and teasing just out of arms reach. Emily noticed something strange about the luminescent ribbons. They appeared granulated, like little bits of floating, glowing sugar. Then Emily noticed _him._

He was just as bright as the radiant sand cloud he stood on, his hair sticking out around a cherubic face like rays of sunlight. He gave her a warm, loving smile, though there was something solemn behind his friendly eyes. He floated down to her, reaching out a hand to gently brush the side of her face, before nodding his head toward her with a blink, gold dust sprinkling forth from his eyes onto hers. She felt so tired then, even more tired than before. But now she wasn't scared to close her eyes, for fear of not opening them again. She didn't hurt anymore, either. It was then that Emily met eternal sleep, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth, safety, and love.

The Sandman took that moment to finally allow himself to cry. It wouldn't be long before the children's parents would find out who survived and who hadn't. The results of the incident would reach the public. Much sleep would be lost over this. So many sad, hopeless thoughts, too many. It overwhelmed him.

A black shadow became distinctly human shaped just behind Sandy, as a far taller figure peeled away from the wall and came to stand next to the Spirit of Dreams. It was silent for a long moment before the shadow chose to speak.

"I am so sorry, brother…" Came a silken voice. The golden man didn't respond, only focusing his gaze on the children. A dusty tear still lingered on his cheek. The Sandman's newfound companion lowered his head solemnly. "I only came because I could feel their fear, fear of what I was unsure. I was…curious as to its origin, for I had no memory of creating it." Pitch's voice caught almost undetectably on the word 'fear'. Had Sandy not known him for so long, he might have missed that quiver of emotion.

"It seems _he _needed none of my help when it came down to it." Both of their eyes shifted briefly to the bloodied assailant, dead as well, having turned the gun on himself after the fact. Sandy blinked hard, and sighed. He turned to the Nightmare King and surveyed him. His garnet eyes were downcast, brow furrowed in deep thought, shadows clinging to his form more than usual. Gaunt cheeks and bags under his eyes, Pitch looked less the terrible dream ruiner, and more the mourning genteel. He seemed incredibly tired as well, the Dream Spirit noted. He placed a consoling hand on Pitch's shoulder. The man flinched slightly in surprise, before returning the gesture, larger hand covering the Sandman's. The other Guardians would not know of this silent vigil. They didn't need to.

Sandman reflected on the situation; it may have seemed odd to anyone else to see the two spirits communing in such a way. But, he knew a secret about the Shadow King. One that not even Pitch himself knew.

While the Boogieman relished in the terror of children, there was a line that was not meant to be crossed. He was in obvious pain because of the events that had just taken place. The Man in the Moon had told Sandy of Pitch's past life, before shadows and nightmares. Before his center was fear.

His name had been Kozmotis Pitchiner. General of the Constellation War. Bringer of the Golden Age. Conqueror of evil. The most valiant man recorded in that piece of their history. But, and Sandy thought this to be the most important part; he was a father. Try as they might, the Fearlings could never rid the man of his instinctive fatherly habits. Especially in moments such as this.

Sandy's attention was drawn back to the children, as finally the moment they waited for had been reached. A stunning golden glow erupted throughout the pastel room. Each of the children, or spectral projections thereof, stood up from their broken shells, as if nothing had happened. Their eyes were wide, full of joy, overflowing with happiness.

They were free.

Pitch, noticing this, gave a sad smile and began sliding back to his shadows. Not wanting to startle the children in these last precious moments, before joining the stars in the sky. But little Emily had a different idea. Seeing the tall, sad man trying to escape the scene she floated, none to gracefully at first, toward him groping for his hand. Sandy looked on in silent amusement. Pitch seized up very suddenly when her small hand gripped his pinky finger, the gesture somehow familiar, bringing a sting of loving pain to his heart. He looked back at the golden child with knitted brows.

"Stay with me!" Pleaded her melodic voice, a large smile brightening her incandescent features yet. The Sandman felt, more than saw, the broken heartedness that overcame the Nightmare King. How could he deny her this?

The two spirits stayed, if only for a few moments, Sandy making fantastic creatures from his golden sand, Pitch being regaled by Emily of how she couldn't wait to go home and see her mommy. That she was very excited to tell her she was okay, of her new friends and the golden sand, and how she didn't hurt anymore. "I'm not scared, now." She cooed, wrapping her arms around pitch's waist in a vice-like hug.

Steps echoed in the hallway outside, as the investigators readied themselves for the scene they were about to enter. Pitch threw a concerned glance at Sandy, even as he gently pulled his long fingers through Emily's glimmering, golden hair. The Sandman returned it, and nodded his head. Slowly, the little shimmering figures began to make their ascent to toward the sky, passing gently through the ceiling. As they went, cheering giddily, Pitch took his opportunity to exit. Shadows caressed him, licking at his back. Before he dared leave, for he didn't want Emily to look back and not see him, he returned his gaze to the slowly disappearing forms. He noticed the glint of Sandy's melancholy smile reaching him. Pitch couldn't find it within himself to return it, but inclined his head to the Dream Weaver instead. He could not return the Sandman's gesture; the Boogieman knew deep down inside that the haunting image of an innocent smile would consume his mind when he finally allowed sleep to claim him. No one had nightmares like Pitch, king or no.

_The children were at peace, sleeping at last._

_In loving memory of the children and teachers involved in the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy._

_They sleep with the stars, now._


End file.
